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I am a big, scarred brute, ugly even for an orc, with my pale skin and mutilated cock. I will never be worthy of her.
My mind saws one way then the other.
There is one unavoidable fact—that she has not told me about this.
She is keeping it a secret, and it’s not as if I can ask her why.
* * *
Jasmine
It is bath time for Melody, and she is in a mischievous mood. I would say it was from eating too many sweets, but the child rarely eats anything else. Bard assures me that fairies eat for pleasure and take sustenance in magical ways from the universe around them.
I have my doubts.
The bath is full to the brim of warm water, and the other servants are dismissed. Bath time is always private for Melody, and since meeting her, I have come to understand why. Bard is sitting before the window where he is reading a book, but he pays no attention to Melody, who is dancing around the room tossing shoes, stockings, and clothing all over the place.
I stifle my laughter as her shift lodges over the light fitting, which is thankfully unlit.
Finally comes the thick cloth wrap that binds around her chest. As it drops away, her wings pop into existence, and golden dust flies everywhere.
“Yippee!”
She bounds onto one side of the bed, performs a perfect pirouette, and jumps off on the other side. Her body doesn’t have human form anymore but is a magical shimmering apparition that loosely resembles a young child.
And those wings. They are golden and so delicate as to be transparent in many places—they never fail to bring a catch to my chest.
“Melody,” Bard says with a warning in his voice. He hasn’t lifted his head from his book, but given there is gold dust flying everywhere and even landing on the open pages of his book—which he reaches to brush off with a sigh—it is hard to miss what is going on. “What did we talk about last week?”
She huffs dramatically but dutifully lifts her hands, and all the scattered dust is sucked into her body. As she climbs into the bath, her body is once more that of a little girl.
I help her with her bath and plait her hair, ready for bed. Yet, all the while, I’m thinking about how there are now two secrets I must keep.
She tucks down in bed, and Bard begins his nightly tale. He is not merelyBardbut also a former bard, I have discovered. But as she drifts into sleep, and Bard turns down her lamp before closing the door, it is my other secret that calls to me.
I offer a good night to Bard and make my way to the quarters I share with Doug.
He is there, waiting for me. One look at him, and I know something is wrong.
There is a strange set to his jaw that makes me pause. His body is damp, and his hair is wet, like he has just cleaned up.
“Have you been moving bricks all day?” I say, hesitant, as I try to compose myself and settle the strange fluttering in my belly.
He nods, stepping closer to me, radiating menace.
“I… oh.” I take an awkward step back, bump into the bed, and sit down in a rush. It puts me in a low position. I glance up, a long way up, past strong legs encased in hide pants, past a thick bulge where my eyes want to linger, over slabs of abdominal and chest muscles until I meet his eyes.
I gulp. “Is there, ah, something troubling you, Doug?”
He huffs out a breath. He does not nod yes, but he also does not shake his head no.
I swallow nervously, wondering if this is about his cock. He has not let me touch it since that one time when I kissed him there. Last night, when we were together, he did not take his pants off and he got that mutinous set to his jaw when I suggested that he might.
“Do you want to be naked again?” I blurt out.
He raises both brows.
My eyes lower as though compelled by otherworldly forces to that fascinating thick ridge bulging his pants—the strange ever-present knot where his gland has been mutilated. Goodness, my throat is dust dry. I desperately want to touch him there, to kiss him and please him as he has pleased me. “Please let me… let me kiss you while you are… while you are without your clothes.”
